


cheap thrills

by poisonmilkshake



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fluff, M/M, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonmilkshake/pseuds/poisonmilkshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is a waiter and dish-washer in a small, cosy diner, in a town where everyone knows everyone.<br/>Gerard is a new customer that soon starts coming at the diner every day.</p><p>Frank is a rich chef in a famous restaurant.<br/>Gerard is a soon-to-be best selling author.</p><p>They meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a teenage vow in a parking lot

**Author's Note:**

> this will most likely be very short. it's the first story i publish, even though i have more stored away from when i will feel brave enough to show them to the internet. so please be kind. it was like two in the morning when i finished writing and i've had this idea in my mind for a while so i decided i'd give it a shot. xo enjoy.

"I brought you my bullets," says Gerard, like it's something normal, like it's something people do. He sticks an hand in his pocket and awkwardly places the three bullets on Frank's right palm. Frank finds the metallic sound they make against each other quite satisfying.

"Is this a proposal? Are we getting married in a parking lot?" says Frank, even though he understands the symbolism behind the gesture. Gerard is letting go of suicide. He still has the gun, but he's promising not to use it. Of course, a promise can be broken. But Frank is happy that Gerard wants to live now.

"Yeah, totally. Say your vows," answers Gerard, and he almost sounds serious.

"Till tonight do us part," says Frank, grinning in a dismissing manner, slipping the bullets in his own pocket.

Gerard laughs softly, looking down, and Frank's smile gets wider. When he stops laughing, the only thing that's left is Frank and Gerard, leaning against Gerard's car, illuminated by the lampposts on the sidewalk. There's not really a reason for them to be here other than the fact that Gerard likes this parking lot, and Frank has grown fond of it too after meeting Gerard here so many times.

"I actually came here to say goodbye. I'm leaving." Gerard sounds so serious, nostalgic even, and Frank has to look at him with wide eyes to make sure what he's just heard is real. The air around them changes. It's heavy, and Frank thinks that if it had a colour, it would probably be a deep purple. He'd always relied on the impossible idea that Gerard would stay with him forever. That he'd have coffee at the diner every afternoon, during Frank's shift, and then help him wash the dishes after closing time, that he'd sleep in Frank's bed every night, that he'd make pancakes for Frank every morning.

"You're leaving?"

It never occurred to him that maybe Gerard wanted more. That maybe Gerard wanted to go looking for something better. Somewhere better.

"I'm going to New York. I want to be a writer. I have a chance there."

He imagines Gerard asking someone else to serve him coffee, Gerard waking up in someone else's bed, Gerard making pancakes in someone else's kitchen. A sad, confused "Oh" is all Frank can say in response.

Later, when he's buried deep inside Gerard, and he pushes his head back against the pillow, moaning loudly in pleasure, wrapping his legs tighter around Frank's waist, Frank thinks that this is the last he's going to see of him. He leaves an open-mouthed kiss against the side of Gerard's neck and then stays there to hide a stray tear that managed to get out. It's the sweetest of goodbyes. He grabs Gerard's thighs and pushes them against his chest, fucking him deeper, slower. Gerard's moans get more desperate, his eyelashes start to flutter, his thighs quiver softly, and Frank never wants it to end.

Maybe this is what people talk about when they talk about 'making love'. Frank doesn't know. Frank doesn't want to know. He doesn't want what he and Gerard shared to be called 'love'. Love is so bland. Love is so common.

In the morning, when he wakes up, the empty space on the bed next to him feels warm, Gerard's clothes have left Frank's alone on the floor, the smell of pancakes comes in from the open bedroom door, and there's a note on his nightstand.

 _loneliness tastes bitter,_  
_but you can always carry my bullets, and I'll never forget your love-_  
_til tonight do us part._  
_Goodbye, Frank._


	2. life is made of perfectly timed coincidences

Frank has a necklace with three bullets hanging from it. Everyone knows it but no one knows what it represents. Not even Jamia and Bob, his best friends and most trusted co-workers. A lot of people ask him about it, most want to know how he got the bullets in the first place, or where he bought it because it looks pretty cool. After his restaurant got famous, he got the question even more, and word started going around that the necklace had a story, and that no one knew it, and people started making it a lot bigger than it was. It was only a necklace. It held a lot of importance to him, but that's all it was.

The restaurant got famous fast. It's not too small so it doesn't feel cramped, and not so big that he can't handle it when it's full. It has a low ceiling, cherry wood panelling on the walls, black marble tiles on the floor, big windows with black iron frames and gothic looking chandeliers that sparkle when the light coming from the windows hits them. The tablecloths are wine red in colour, and he thrift-shopped the shit out of the chairs and tables, so they are all mismatched, but somehow in harmony with each other. He loves that it gives a kind of shabby chic look to the restaurant. There are some paintings on the walls and he chose them all personally. The chandeliers are actually the fanciest thing in the whole restaurant. He wanted to keep it simple but when he saw them he fell in love and couldn't help himself. In the summer, they put black iron tables and chairs outside, in the garden that's on the back, shadowed by trees. They leave the doors open to let fresh air in and everyone loves it.  
He called it The Secret Goldfish. He wonders how many people get the reference. People don't even call it that anymore, they call it "the restaurant of celebrities". It started when one day, Asa Butterfield came in the restaurant. He liked his dinner, and he posted a picture of himself and a friend in the restaurant on Instagram, captioning it with something about how good the food was and how cosy and homey the place felt despite the dark interiors. Soon more celebrities started coming in, and now the tables are almost always full during both lunch and dinner. They have calm days too sometimes, and in those days Frank doesn't know if to feel relieved or worried. Asa Butterfield is kind of a regular, too. He eats at The Secret Goldfish whenever he has the chance, and he and Frank even have something you could call a friendship, but Frank sometimes avoids him because he has black hair, pale skin, and soft looking lips, and that reminds him too much of Gerard.  
The restaurant looks like it could be a bistro, but Frank doesn't really do french cuisine. It's more of an Italian restaurant. Even though it's getting more and more famous, Frank has always kept the prices moderate, because he isn't aiming to be fancy, he's aiming to be good.  
He thinks Gerard would love it. There is not a single cent he spent for it that he didn't spend thinking about Gerard. Would Gerard like these curtains? Would Gerard drink this wine? Would Gerard buy this brand of coffee? He isn't Gerard, so he can't always answer, but he did his best. He thinks Gerard would absolutely love The Secret Goldfish. Frank really made it for Gerard. He made it to grab his attention. To meet him again. He worked hard to afford it, he'd been putting money aside for it ever since he'd started working at the diner because it was his dream to one day open a restaurant and be able to call it 'mine'.

In the beginning, working at the diner was just a summer job, when he was still in high school. He usually washed dishes and helped out cleaning, sometimes he helped cooking too, cutting vegetables or making sure stuff didn't burn. The chef screamed a lot. When he turned 18 he started working there regularly. At first, he only washed dishes, but after about 2 months he was promoted as waiter and head dishwasher. It didn't really change much, because there wasn't another dishwasher and he'd been already serving during the last month because Susan, fucking _Susan_ , was 'sick' and she had to stay home. What Susan really was, was taking a vacation to the Bahamas with her husband and lying when the diner's manager, who was also the owner and the head-waitress, called her to ask her how she was. The manager/owner/head waitress was Sabrina. Sabrina was shorter than Frank and she was old, but her hair was as black as the night and she always kept it up in a messy bun. Her hands were older than the rest of her, after a lifetime of work, she was determined and she never seemed tired or sad, but when she got mad she could kick ass like no one else. She saw right through Susan's bullshit, and that's why, when Susan came back, tanned skin and relaxed limbs and sort of smug looking for getting away with her lies, Sabrina fired her as soon as she set foot in the diner, not for taking a vacation, but for lying to her face. In the afternoon she promoted Frank as waiter and doubled his pay. He worked there for another year. A couple of months after turning 19, he stopped working there and started working sporadically for random restaurants, taking whatever they'd give him, spending as less of his pay as possible. He's been homeless for a couple of times, sometimes he had to stay in shitty hotel rooms, sometimes he found employers kind enough to pay him for his job and give him a place to sleep too. He learned to cook, and during that time he met Jamia and Bob too. Bob was Frank's flat-mate for some months, he had been to a culinary school but he'd never finished, so he worked as a mechanic, since his dad was one too and had taught him the job ever since he was little. His dream was to cook though, and after tasting one of his dishes, Frank was hooked. Bob taught him a lot about cooking, and what Bob didn't teach him, he learned watching other people when he worked.  
Jamia was a waitress in one of the restaurants Frank had worked in, and after working together for a couple of weeks, it was already like they'd been best friends ever since childhood.

Still, Frank could never bring himself to tell them about Gerard. He doesn't have a particular reason, he just doesn't want to talk about it. Their story makes him sad and nostalgic. He misses Gerard so much. He still remembers the first time they met. Gerard had just moved in, and everyone was talking about him, as they always did when something new happened in the small town. Frank was 16 at the time, and Gerard 20. The first time he came in the diner, it was in the middle of July, and Frank clearly remembers looking at him from behind the counter and wondering how he could drink hot coffee when it was so hot outside. That summer nothing happened between them. There were some shared glances, sometimes their fingers brushed against each other when Gerard gave him money, most times they didn't even see each other because Frank was in the kitchen washing dishes, and then he had to go back to school and he stopped working again. During that time, he would see Gerard in the supermarket or walking down the other side of the street, and they'd give each other a look of acknowledgement before going on with their own business. The next summer, somehow a friendship bloomed between them. It was so sudden that they both forgot how it even happened. In July, Gerard started staying in the diner to wait for the end of Frank's shift every day. After it was over, he'd drive them both to the beach and they hung out there. Gerard didn't like going to the beach during the day, he found it too hot and he didn't like showing his skin to strangers. He also didn't like it when his skin tanned, he always said it looked bad on him. Frank understood, he had the same thoughts on the matter. The first time they just took off their shoes and rolled their pants up, and walked in the water for a while, talking about their lives and sharing their thoughts on various topics. After that, they sat on the sand and let their feet dry while they kept talking. They never got bored of each other. Gerard drove Frank back home around 3 in the morning and told him to bring a bathing suit the next day. His mum got so mad at him because it was so late, but he doesn't even remember what she said. He ended up falling asleep around 6, when the sun was rising, because he had too many thoughts in his head. He was struggling with sexuality and Gerard wasn't making it any simpler for him.

That summer, he learned about Gerard's depression and this kind of fascination Gerard had for death. Gerard told him he'd been like that for as long as he could remember. When he was a kid he'd spend hours wondering what it would be like to die, what would happen after. But then his brother distracted him and he would stop thinking about it for weeks. It got worse when he was 11, and he started middle school. Mikey wasn't there with him, and he was scared because there were a lot of guys who were older than him. That was when he started having suicidal thoughts. He started thinking about ways to take his own life. He never acted on it. High school was like hell for Gerard. He hated it. People mocked him for his hair, for how he dressed, for how he walked, for how he talked. They made fun of him because he liked drawing and writing. During his third year, his brother started coming to the same high school as him, but they had grown apart during all that time where they couldn't be in school together, and Gerard had started hanging with the wrong crowds. He became a bully, sort of, and people stopped making fun of him because they were too scared of him to do so. He still looked the same, he still wore the same ripped pants and band shirts, he still had messy hair and black eyeliner around his eyes, but for some reason, the fact that he was part of a gang made that look scary. He started becoming violent, towards others and towards himself, and the dark thoughts still chased him. Somehow, he managed to legally get a gun when he was 16, and three bullets. He didn't even need three, he thought. One was enough. That night, he locked the door of his bedroom and pointed the gun to the side of his head. He couldn't do it. He put the gun in the drawer of his bedside table and cried himself to sleep. During the next two years, he managed to get out of the gang and fix the relationship with his brother. He became best friends with a guy named Ray. After high school was over, he spent a lot of time thinking about what he wanted to do, but he didn't know. And then he decided to move to that town, and his parents paid his first three rents while he looked for a job. He found one at the flower shop, and he worked there until he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more people needs to appreciate Asa Butterfield. Asa Butterfield is life.


	3. let's say goodbye, the hundredth time

Today is one of those days when the restaurant isn't full, and Frank doesn't really know what to do since he's not rushing to complete 10 different orders at the same time. There's a total of 6 costumers having dinner at the tables, and Frank's employees can handle it if he leaves for a cigarette right now. He lets Bob take the wheel and he goes outside. He likes the sound of his shoes against the stone pavement of the garden. He lights his cigarette up and lets the smoke fill his lungs and the air around him. For some reason, he has always loved the taste smoke leaves in his mouth. He takes his time, and when he goes back inside he feels a lot calmer. Of course, the bliss doesn't last long.

"Frank, I think there's a critic sitting at table 23" Jamia says, rushing in the kitchen wearing a worried expression. Frank sort of numbered the tables with random numbers he likes instead of using the actual order of numbers. Jamia and all the other waiters probably hate him for that. Everyone stops what they're doing to listen to what she's saying. The air is dense with tension. Critics are always stressful to handle.

"What the fuck do you mean, a critic?" Frank answers. He's a bit alarmed, he wasn't expecting this. It feels like everyone is holding their breath when Jamia starts talking rapidly again.

"I don't know, he's writing stuff down on a little pad and he's dressed pretty well, and he asked me the name of the Chef and then asked if he could speak with you! I told him I'd come ask you and-"

"Alright, I'll go speak with him," Frank interrupts Jamia's rambling with calm, and then he's taking off his apron, washing his hands, and walking out of the kitchen.  
Table 23 is pretty close to the entrance to the kitchen, but the man is turned so that Frank can only see his back, and his mop of bright red hair. He could bet all his money Jamia is spying them from the kitchen. He isn't sure how to approach him.

"Hello, I'm the Chef, did you ask about me?" Frank says. He already knows the man asked about him, but you can never be too sure. He turns around after he swallows his food, and Frank is even more unsure of what to say when he sees the man's face. Gerard's face. He feels like his heart just imploded. Maybe it did. His knees may be about to completely crumble. A thousand emotions hit him all at once.  
After staring at him for a while, he settles for "What the fuck did you do to your hair?"

"Do you like it?" Gerard answers with a shy smile.

"I... Yes, I love it, to be honest. It fits your personality. Can I sit down?" Frank is feeling a bit dizzy.

"Thank you, and yes, I'd like some company- I'd like _your_ company" he says. He blushes a bit. Maybe he's still the same Gerard that Frank knew. Frank sits in front of him. He looks at the little window on the kitchen's door and Jamia hides quickly when she realizes she's been caught. He realizes he's wearing his uniform and he feels a bit awkward, but it's too late to back out of this now. Gerard's eyes eagerly take in the tattoos Frank's uniform leaves exposed, and takes a good look at his hands, too.

"So, no more dish-washing, uh?" Gerard starts eating again. Frank feels even more awkward sitting there watching him eat.

"No more dish-washing," he smiles, "I made it"  
He wanted Gerard to see this, for a long time. He wants Gerard to be proud of him for how far he's come. Gerard smiles. Frank can see that it's genuine. He wants to hug Gerard. He wants Gerard's arms around him. Gerard is staring at Frank's tattoos again.

"Did you become a food critic?" Frank asks. He's curious as to why a person like Gerard would choose such a job.  
Gerard frowns, looking back up at Frank's face, tilts his head to the side a bit, the hint of a pout on his lips. His face has always been very expressive.

"No. No, I haven't. Why'd you ask?"

Frank answers with another question, he's confused: "Why are you here then?"

"I found out about this restaurant only 3 days ago. Is there somewhere more private to talk? I have a lot of things to tell you" Gerard says, his eyes dart around.  
Frank licks his lips. He's kind of nervous.

"There's my office, we could talk there" he says.  
Gerard nods. "Lead the way."

When the door of the office closes behind them, the first thing Frank does is hug Gerard. Gerard seems a bit surprised at first, but then he hugs Frank back, wrapping his arms around Frank's shoulders. Frank presses his face against Gerard's chest, and one of Gerard's hands starts petting his hair. Frank feels like he's finally come home after a neverending day at work. They keep standing there, and Gerard starts talking, whispering softly as if not to break the atmosphere.

"It took a lot of time after I left, but I finally settled down after a thousand odd jobs and a lot of moving around. After that, I decided to focus on writing, but I couldn't find inspiration. I've been living under a rock for the last three years, working on different plots and characters and background stories and worlds. But none of it worked. I'd get a new idea, and I'd call Mikey and talk to him about it, and he'd tell me 'It's great, Gerard! You should work on this, it's gonna be awesome!' I got all worked up and wrote for months about it. But then I'd read it again, and I'd hate it. I'd spend a week or two, sometimes it even lasted months, in a state of depression because whatever I'd made didn't work at all. There were no feelings, and my stories had no soul. 'Writing' was like a parasite. I didn't eat or drink much, I smoked all the time and drank a lot of coffee. I slept too much or not at all. I lost a lot of weight, to the point I bordered on anorexic." Gerard stops and takes a big breath. That's when Frank starts feeling silent tears wet his cheeks. He stays quiet and keeps listening. Gerard keeps playing with his hair, and with his other hand caresses Frank's back. Frank's hands are balled into fists against the small of Gerard's back. Gerard waits until Frank's hands relax and Frank stops shaking to keep talking.

"When I realised what I was doing to myself, I took a break. I went back to live with my family and took care of my body. My mental state was not too good. I asked Mikey to come stay with me in the town where I met you. I was kind of surprised to see it hadn't changed at all. We stayed in my old apartment, and slowly, I approached writing again. I didn't have anything particular in mind, and writing without an objective, just for the sake of it, felt good. I didn't have characters to develop and I didn't have to give names or build new worlds. I was just telling random stories, with nameless people in nameless places. Sometimes I tried to describe a specific feeling. Sometimes I drew too. Mikey worked at the flower shop I used to work in, and he paid the rent. He took care of me and made sure I ate, and showered. When I started feeling bad, I'd go to the beach. I have all these good memories with you at that beach. After coming back, I'd take a hot bath, and I'd stay in the water until it went cold. The next day I'd start writing again, like crazy. This went on until I realised I had a story in my hands. And not any story, Frankie, it was our story."

Frank looks up at him, sort of shocked at the revelation. Gerard smiles fondly at him, looking in his eyes. He's crying too, but his voice didn't shake once.

"It was me and you, in every word, in every scrap of paper. It was perfect. Our story was perfect. I rearranged it in the right order, and showed it to Mikey. It was very sketchy, and sometimes I was so overwhelmed with emotions while writing that you could't understand the words unless you took time to decipher it. Mikey cried while reading it. I think he knew that it was personal. After that, I had a first draft. I made it into a book. I didn't use any names, I wanted to keep the feeling that it could be about anyone. It was published a week ago."

Again, Frank doesn't know what to say. He keeps staring at Gerard. In the end, he goes for a dreamy "Wow". The last two tears roll down his cheeks. He puts his head back on Gerard's chest, and holds him close.

"You're awesome" he whispers. He wanted to say 'I love you', but he thinks it's too rushed after not seeing each other for 4 years. After a while, Gerard kisses his forehead and lets him go. Frank sits down on the little couch he has inside the office, and he dries his eyes with his hands. Gerard sits next to him. He sniffles a bit. He leans back on the couch and takes Gerard's hand. He plays with it for a while, tracing each one of his fingers and caressing his palm.

"You did have a lot to tell me," Frank states. Gerard gives him a small, sad smile.

"I want you to tell me what you think about the book," Gerard says after a while. Frank looks at him. He's staring at the pot of tulips Frank has close to the window. They are all black, but one turned out to be red. His cousin got them for him from Holland. Frank cares a lot about those flowers, but he's not sure why.

"I will," he assures. "Give me your number" he demands.

"It's still the same," Gerard says. Frank thinks that maybe Gerard never changed number because he wanted Frank to call him, his heart breaks a little and suddenly he feels like an asshole.

"Alright," Frank says. They sit in a comfortable silence for a while.

"I love this place," Gerard says. "It feels like it could be a home for anyone"

"I made it for you" Frank blurts out. He didn't mean to say that. He meant to agree with what Gerard stated. He wanted to lie and tell him it was made for everyone. It wasn't. Again, it was only for Frank and Gerard, but everyone was allowed to see it and take comfort in it for a while. Just like Gerard's book, Frank supposes.  
Gerard's eyes widen a bit, he looks at Frank like he doesn't believe him.

"Did you, now?"

"Yeah, I wanted your attention. I guess I got it now," Frank answers.

They talk about Frank's past for a while after that. Gerard seems really heartbroken at the idea of Frank living in the streets, he almost starts crying again, actually. Frank doesn't talk much about it, he doesn't want to upset Gerard more. When they realize it's almost midnight, they decide it's time to stop talking. It's been an emotional rollercoaster for them both. They say goodbye for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time it's something they don't want to say to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, i said i'd publish this yesterday night but i didn't because it didn't have an ending yet. and then i've been out all day, and i didn't have much time to concentrate on writing. this is also a lot longer than the other two chapters, so y'know, it needed more time. but now i finished it, so YAY for update!


	4. hand in glove

The first time Frank kissed Gerard, it was three days before his own 18th birthday. Since school had started again, Gerard had taken on the habit of waiting for Frank in a parking lot that was on his way when he walked home. Frank never really understood what that parking lot was there for, because there weren't supermarkets or anything close to it, and Gerard seemed to be the only one to use it. That day too, he picked Frank up at the parking lot, and drove them to his house. Frank really wanted to move in with Gerard. They had lunch and talked about their day, and then watched some movies while sitting on Gerard's couch. They ended up falling asleep and woke up around 8. It was almost sunset time, and since it was a strangely warm day for the end of October, Gerard drove them to the beach. They sat on a towel and watched the sunset, listened to the waves. Gerard put his head on Frank's lap, and told him he looked orange. Frank told him he looked orange too, because the light from the sunset was indeed making everything look orange. And then Gerard laughed, and Frank leant down and pecked his lips. Just like that. He was scared. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and his fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Gerard smiled like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He looked so cute. So Frank did it again. And again, and that time he dared to make it a little longer. Gerard carded his fingers through Frank's hair, and Frank's fear dissipated. Frank broke the kiss to breathe and Gerard pulled him down again. Gerard bit Frank's bottom lip gently, making him gasp. Gerard pulled away and then he was sitting up, grabbing Frank's face again to kiss him softly. He licked Frank's bottom lip shyly. Frank didn't hesitate to open his mouth, and soon he was sitting on top of Gerard, grinding their hips together. He was kissing Gerard like Gerard was the most delicious thing he had tasted in his whole life. Gerard sighed and gasped against his lips. Frank rolled his hips down harder. But after a while, he started sensing hesitation on Gerard's lips, and then Gerard suddenly stopped him. He put a hand on Frank's chest and turned his face away. Most of his upper body was laying on the sand and the other half on the towel. He looked completely debauched. He was blushing, too, and Frank found it adorable.  
"I... I don't think I'm ready for this, Frank" he said awkwardly. "We missed the end of the sunset" he added muttering, his eyes fixated on the line where sky and sea touched. It was true, the sky was pinkish and it was starting to become dark.  
"I don't think I'm ready for this either," Frank said, getting off of Gerard and laying down next to him. Gerard didn't look at him, his face was still red, and Frank could clearly see that he was still hard. He may have made out with other people before Gerard, but he was still a virgin. He didn't really know what he was doing. And he cared a lot about Gerard. He didn't want to rush things.

On the day of his eighteenth birthday, Frank and his mom had their worst fight ever. She kicked him out, driven by pride and anger. Gerard had invited him to spend the evening and night at his apartment, so he stormed out of his mom's house and walked all the way to Gerard's. When Gerard opened the door, Frank collapsed into his arms and started crying. He had a mild mental breakdown on the entrance to Gerard's house, and Gerard held him in his arms and whispered worried words into his hair. When he'd calmed down enough, Gerard took him to the living room and sat him down on the couch. That's when Frank noticed there were other people. Patrick, Pete, Brendon, and Lyn-z, all standing there looking at him. There were snacks on the coffee table and decorations on the walls, and Frank realized Gerard intended on throwing him a surprise party. He imagined himself walking in the room and his friends yelling "Surprise!" at him, he imagined the way Gerard would have smiled at his shock, and he imagined himself hugging Gerard and thanking him. He felt like crying all over again. But Gerard kneeled in front of him, and held Frank's face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs to wipe his tears away.  
"Breathe," he said, and Frank concentrated on taking regular, deep breaths. Staring into Gerard's eyes seemed to help. When he'd calmed down enough, Gerard asked him what had happened.  
"Mom kicked me out," he said, but didn't elaborate further.

Gerard didn't ask anything else. "You need some alcohol," he said. He walked over to the kitchen and came back holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and 2 shot glasses in the other. He set one glass down, and then filled the other glass, handed it to Frank, set the bottle down on the coffee table, and then walked back to the kitchen to grab another 4 shot glasses. By the time he was back, Frank had drunk his shot already. Gerard filled the glasses and handed one to everyone in the room, then raised his own in the air and cheered for Frank. Frank smiled and downed his vodka. He was so glad Gerard was 22 already, because he wanted to get wasted. For some reason it felt like a revenge against his mom. Everyone sat down, they had some snacks, and Gerard refilled the glasses. This time Brendon was the one to cheer: he cheered for Frank's 'legality'. Frank wasn't sure if it meant that it was legal for Frank to have sex now or something else related to 'adulthood'. Frank wasn't even really sure what being 18 implied other than being able to get a stable job, driving, smoking, and having legal sex. He laughed anyway, and drank his shot again. They had Frank do the third cheer, and Frank decided to cheer for sweet revenge. Gerard seemed to like the sound of it.

The evening was _awesome_. Frank didn't end up getting wasted, but he was so happy that he forgot about his mom until it was time to blow the candles, around five minutes before midnight. "Make a wish!" Patrick told him excitedly, and he wished for his mom to take back what she said. After that, Patrick and Brendon had to leave, after eating a slice of cake, but Lyn-z and Pete stayed. Gerard made them sleep in the guest room. Lyn-z didn't seem too happy about sharing the double bed, but everyone knew that Pete was gay so she didn't complain too much.

He slept in Gerard's bed for the first time that night, and despite not wanting to rush things, the alcohol talked him into kissing Gerard again. It was slow and lazy, and Frank felt so good he thought he could have died. He had one of his legs between Gerard's, straddling one of his thighs, and he also managed to grope Gerard through his pajamas. And, well, he felt big. It's not like Frank wasn't expecting it, because he never missed a chance to check Gerard out when he had skinny jeans on, but feeling it with his own hand was different. Frank kept feeling Gerard up, and Gerard kept moaning quietly against his lips. He had his hands all over Frank's back, sometimes tangled in Frank's hair, and his tongue in Frank's mouth. He couldn't have ended the night in a better way even if he'd planned it in advance. He made Gerard come in his boxers, biting his own fist to keep quiet, and then Gerard had Frank straddle him properly and took both their shirts off. He seemed kind of shy about his body, and Frank saw how insecure he was, even in the dark. Then he slid his hand inside Frank's boxers and gave him a handjob that felt like heaven itself. He sat up and kissed all over Frank's neck and chest, sucked softly on his nipples, and curled one of his hands around Frank's hip or groped his ass. Sometimes he'd tease one of his fingers between Frank's cheeks, and Frank trembled all over. He tugged softly at Frank and Frank's hips rolled back and forth to get more friction. He tried to keep his moans down, and came with his forehead pressed against Gerard's. Afterwards, Frank put his head down on Gerard's chest, Gerard still holding him softly in his fist like he'd forgotten to let go, his other arm resting comfortably on the small of Frank's back, and Frank tried to catch his breath. They both didn't feel like moving. They were also way too tired to change, so they just took their bottoms off and threw them on the floor. They shared one of Gerard's cigarettes. Somehow, smoke tasted different after an orgasm, but Frank couldn't pinpoint what the difference was.

"Frankie?" Gerard whispered in the silence after a while.  
Frank hummed in response. His head was still laying on Gerard's chest, and he'd been listening to the sound of his breath and the thumping if his heart while they slowed down to normal.  
"You awake?" he asked, unsure.  
"Yeah," Frank answered. He was whispering too, because talking loudly felt out of place.  
"Why'd your mom kick you out?" Gerard's heart picked up in speed a tiny bit, he held his breath. Frank understood he didn't really want to ask that question, probably out of fear to make Frank sad or uncomfortable.  
"I told her I'm gay. She got mad and told me to leave. And that I'm a disgrace. Well, it was longer than that, but I don't even remember it all. I was so shocked. And angry. I said some nasty things too." Frank answered calmly. Gerard started breathing again. He planted a kiss on Frank's forehead.  
"So, gay, uh? You don't like girls?" Gerard asked. Frank was glad he decided to point the attention elsewhere.  
"No. No, I don't. Do you?"  
"I kind of like everything. I like the human body. I'm an artist." Gerard said it like it was the most natural thing. And maybe it was for him. Frank had noticed it in the way Gerard looked at people. There was always interest in his eyes. He always seemed to catch the best details. His eyes lingered on the curves of bodies and the way muscles moved and bones shaped the skin. In that moment, Frank thought the whole world must have been a pleasure to watch for Gerard, and he kind of wished he too could see for a while the beauty Gerard saw all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys look orange 
> 
> *fun fact* about half an hour after i wrote that orange stuff my grandma gave me four boxes of orange tic tacs, which is like the best thing ever because orange tic tacs are my drug (yeah im like the guy from Juno) and i haven't had any in like 3 YEARS.  
> KUDOS FOR ORANGE TIC TACS  
> also if you know what the title of this chapter is from i love you.


	5. come as you are

After Gerard leaves, Frank walks into the kitchen to find Jamia there, waiting for him. Everyone else, employees and costumers both, has already left. All the tables have been cleaned, including Gerard's. When he enters the kitchen, Jamia stands up and walks over to him.  
"How'd that go? You two talked a lot," she says. She was obviously worried.  
"Everything went fine," Frank says.  
"Fine?" she asks, confused.  
"Yes, fine. Let's go, Jam, it's late," he answers. Jamia looks like she wants to know more, but doesn't insist.

The next morning, he realises he never asked Gerard the name of the book. He ends up looking Gerard up on Google while he has breakfast, and, wow, critics are saying good things about him already. Frank wonders how long it will take for the book to start getting noticed by the general public. It's called _I brought you my bullets, You brought me your love_. Frank has to read the name three times. He doesn't quite believe his eyes. After breakfast and some more snooping around on the internet, he turns off his computer and washes his dishes, before taking a shower and choosing some nice clothes to go out. He walks to his favourite bookstore and asks about the book. They have it. Frank doesn't hesitate to buy it. He asks the guy that served him if he has read it and the guy says yes, and that he loved every single word and he's been recommending it to almost every customer who walks in. Frank laughs and thanks him before walking out. He checks his watch, and he still has about 45 minutes before the restaurant opens for lunch at 11. There's a café Frank loves on his way to the restaurant, so he stops there since he still has plenty of time. He sits at one of the tables and orders a coffee before settling into his book. For some reason, Frank loves the cover. It's this reddish purple on the left side contrasting with a dark yellow on the right side, with the shape of a man hanging upside down over the yellow. It kind of looks like a shadow, and there's this effect over the whole picture that Frank can't begin to describe but kind of reminds him of glass. He starts reading, and finds himself immediately hooked. Gerard starts the book talking about a new town, nestled between a forest and the sea. The town was kind of dull and the people always spoke behind each other's back, but the sunsets there were always beautiful to watch. The book is written in first person, but Gerard avoids describing the person who talks. He doesn't even specify their sex, only their age. The main character is struggling to find a job when they stumble over a small diner. In the diner, there's the most beautiful man they have ever seen, with big, green eyes and short, black hair. Frank stops reading at that, putting a bookmark between page 21 and 22, and closing the book. And then he realises he has never touched his coffee. He pays for it and leaves.

It takes him about three days to finish reading the book. He reads at every chance he gets. When he's at work, the book waits patiently in his office for each of Frank's smoke breaks. When he comes home around eleven each night, Frank gets into bed and reads for about two hours until he falls asleep. In the mornings he reads again the last 20 pages from the night before because he was too tired to register them. Instead of showering, he takes baths and reads while soaking in the water, until it turns cold. The words make him cry a bunch of times, but the harder he cries is at the end of the book, when the main character leaves their loved one.

> _I'd been thinking about this for months. There were two choices in front of me: a well-paid job that required me to move away, away from him, but that would give me a stable life and had been my dream since childhood, or a life of struggles with the person I loved._  
>  _And for the first time in my life, I let my brain take over my heart. I'd struggled enough in my life. I needed the stability. It was the 19th of July, about three years after our first meeting, and he was working his usual shift at the diner. I went in and told him to meet me at the parking lot when he was done because I had something to tell him. He gave me a weird look, but nodded anyway. He seemed a bit confused. This was something out of character for me, so I smiled and told him I'd see him later. I went back home, sat on our bed and cried, holding my head in my hands. I had three hours before his shift was over. I started folding my clothes and putting them in a bag. I had a shirt with the Marvel logo on it, and he had always loved it so I left it in the closet for him. I took one of his shirts though- it was the one he'd been wearing on his 18th birthday- because it smelled like him and I couldn't stop myself. After that, I packed my art supplies in a box. While looking through all my stuff, I found the gun again. We were so happy together that I had forgotten about it. I put it in the bag under my clothes after taking the bullets out. The bullets went in my pocket. The house looked a lot barer without all my stuff. It was almost time for us to meet, so I gathered my courage, and drove to our favourite meeting spot. He came walking about 10 minutes later, he walked over and, without a word, he leant on my car and watched the stars with me._
> 
> _"I brought you my bullets," I said. My nerves were on edge. My heart was pounding and my palms sweating. He gave me a weird look, and I waited until he held his hand out to drop them on his palm. His face cleared, and he looked almost relieved._
> 
> _"Is this a proposal? Are we getting married in a parking lot?"_  
>  _He smiled. His smile was as beautiful and trusting as usual. I was breaking his trust. I didn't want to leave._
> 
> _"Yeah, totally. Say your vows." I said that, and wished for it to be true. I had to leave though. I had no future there, and neither did he._
> 
> _"Till tonight do us part," he said, and I laughed. Oh, the irony. He didn't know what was about to come over us. I felt my hands tremble, and I couldn't look him in the eyes when I spoke my next words._
> 
> _"I actually came here to say goodbye. I'm leaving." I whispered. I felt so ashamed of myself._
> 
> _"You're leaving?" his voice shook. I didn't deserve him, I realised. I didn't deserve to be the one to make his voice shake. I didn't deserve his wide-eyed stare and the tears forming in his eyes._
> 
> _"I'm going to New York. I want to be a writer. I have a chance there."_
> 
> _His answer was only a small "Oh"._
> 
> _We stood there silently for a while. I wondered if he despised me now, for leaving him alone._
> 
> _"Could you drive me home at least?" he asked me. His voice shook again._
> 
> _"Of course."_
> 
> _He started crying quietly in the middle of the drive. I wanted to stop the car and hold him close until he wasn't crying anymore. I wanted to tell him I'd never leave. I didn't. Once parked in the driveway, I took a big breath and got out of the car. I walked over to his side and opened the car door for him. He'd stopped crying, but he looked like a wreck. He got out of the car without looking at me and I closed the door. He went ahead, and once we were both inside, I let him take in our half empty home. Our bedroom was the last room he walked in. Seeing the expression of hurt on his face broke my heart. I deserved it for leaving him alone. He turned around and looked at me. We stared into each other's eyes for God knows how long. I didn't realise he'd moved until his face was right in front of mine, and then he kissed me. For the first time in my life, I allowed myself to open my eyes while I kissed someone. I wanted to see him. He broke the kiss, and looking into my eyes again, he put his hands on my hips, holding them firmly from under my shirt, and started walking me backwards until I fell on the bed. I couldn't resist him. He caressed my sides. He kissed right under my navel. He took my clothes off slowly, stopping to kiss random patches of my skin every now and then. And when he asked me to undress him, I finally decided I couldn't deny him one last night together. Maybe I was hurting him more by over-staying, but I was selfish, and I wanted to have him one last time even if it meant hurting his feelings. He hid his face on my neck and cried. I held him close, and we both shook._
> 
> _Afterwards, the only sound in the room was that of our panting breaths. He kissed me, and told me things would have been better if I stayed. He rolled to the other side of the bed, and whispered "So long, and goodnight."_  
>  _I felt cold and hollow. I laid on the bed, on my back, with my legs straight and my arms by my sides until I was sure he was asleep. He was a heavy sleeper. I stood up and walked to the bathroom. I took a shower and washed him away. I didn't put my clothes back on, and after I was dry, I laid down on my side of the bed again. I fell asleep. I woke up before the first rays of sunlight could even think of coming in through the window. Then I decided to write him a note. I quietly got a pen and a piece of paper from my art box, and scribbled down what you could call a goodbye. I left the note on his nightstand. I put my clothes back on. I went to the kitchen and made pancakes for him again. I grabbed my boxes and put them in my car. I went inside, laid back down on the bed and stared at him, trying to imprint in my mind this endless moment of us. I was still there. I could unload the boxes from the car, put everything back to its place, wait until he woke up and have pancakes with him. I kissed the sad curve of his shoulder and stood up. I walked out of the room without looking back, walked out of the house, locked the door behind me, put the keys under the doormat, and got in the car. I said goodbye and drove away. I went to the beach one last time. I found the gun where I left it, under my clothes. I walked closer to the shoreline, took my shoes and socks off, rolled my pants up. I walked into the water, and then I threw the gun as far away as I could, towards the sunrise. I realised I'd only watched sunsets as long as I'd lived in that town. This time I watched the sunrise, and it felt like a new beginning._

The last page of the book reports, alone in the middle of the page, like a forgotten poem without a title, the note Gerard wrote for him, word for word, minus Frank's name. Frank closes the book, sets it down on his bed, and huffs out a huge breath. He wipes the tears off his face with his hands, and then he looks for his phone.

_Hey Gerard, I finished the book. Are you free this afternoon?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, i've been so busy lately, i couldn't find time to finish this chapter (which, by the way, has been, kind of, slightly emotionally draining and i couldn't bring myself to write the ending), but now it's here! also, thanks _so much_ for 200 hits, i feel loved.  
>  if you guys hadn't noticed, i fucking love refrences  
> (((summer vibes all over this fic)))  
> sidenote, while writing the ending i had Goodbye Kiss by Kasabian stuck in my mind, and it strangely fits so go listen to that, it's an awesome song


	6. starting from zero, got nothing to lose

The morning after the birthday party, _and_ the first handjob Frank had gotten from a hand that wasn't his own, Frank woke up with a slight headache, and the need, pinpointed at the front of his mind, to have Gerard panting and moaning between the sheets again. But Gerard wasn't in bed anymore. Frank heard chatter from the kitchen, so he stood up and looked around Gerard's wardrobe for something that fit him. He found and put on an oversized shirt with the Marvel logo on it, and a pair of boxers that looked like they should fit him. When he opened the bedroom door, he smelled pancakes. Gerard's pancakes were something legendary. He gladly walked into the kitchen to find Gerard cooking, and Lyn-z and Pete sitting at opposite sides of the table and exchanging glares every now and then, like they didn't trust each other. And then Gerard noticed him standing in the doorway and stared at him for a second, with wide eyes and a blush slowly creeping up his cheeks, with a spatula in one hand and a plate with three pancakes on the other. He quickly resumed his task and the rest of breakfast was spent with Gerard and Frank giving each other awkward glances while Lyn-z and Pete kind of avoided talking with each other. Everything was tense until Lyn-z and Pete left. Then it got worse. Frank kept thinking that he was wearing Gerard's boxers, that Gerard had given him an _handjob_ , and that was technically sexual intercourse, so that was technically _his virginity_. Gerard would look at his thighs and blush a bit, making Frank get all self-conscious about his exposed legs, and then Gerard would stare at his lips and Frank would stare back, but then they'd break eye contact and resume cleaning up the aftermath of the party. This went on until they finished cleaning, but neither of them dared to act on it, which made it progressively more and more awkward.

"Can I move here with you?" Frank didn't know where that came from. He started freaking out, he shouldn't have said that, now Gerard was going to throw him out and he wouldn't ever hear from him again. Gerard was staring at him, holding a half full black plastic bag and sort of crunched to grab a bottle from the coffee table, but stopped halfway through like a picture. He resumed his actions, turning his head and speaking while his hand stretched and closed around the neck of a glass bottle.

"If that's what you want, you can. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, Frankie." He put the bottle in the trash bag. Frank felt like he was going to melt at Gerard's kindness.

"Thanks," he said, and after a while, he realised he couldn't leave all his stuff at his mum's because first, she would probably throw it all out, and second, he needed it if he was gonna move. He put on his pants from the day before and Gerard drove him to his mum's. They went in through the back door, and his mum refused to even look at him when she told him where he could find cardboard boxes. They went to Frank's room and packed his stuff. His guitar went into its case, his books went in a box, his clothes into bags, he made sure to grab all his money, and in about 2 hours, his room was empty of anything that gave it personality. No posters, no socks on the floor, no photos, no decorations. It looked unused, like a guest room. Frank held his chin up and carried each box and bag downstairs to put it in Gerard's car. Once they were done, he didn't even close the front door, they simply got in the car and drove away.  
As soon as they got the last box inside and Gerard closed the door behind them, Frank jumped him. He pushed Gerard back against the door and kissed him, intense and passional. All the tension between them melted, and soon Gerard picked Frank up, holding him under his thighs, and carried him to the bedroom. Dropping Frank on the bed, and then crawling on it himself, he said two words that made Frank giggle happily, like there was nothing else in the world to think about: "Welcome home". He kissed Frank again, and Frank thought that somehow, Gerard seemed to be able to brighten all bad situations, and he realised that maybe, maybe he was in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh, it's one in the morning here, and this is kind of a filler, but i haven't updated in a while and i wanted to talk about MCRX OH MY GOD _MCRX_ I'M DYING INSIDE WHAT WAS THAT VIDEO EVEN  
>  i'm not even gonna sleep tonight, i know already  
> i'm so worked up for this  
> also i got sunburned like 2 days ago so yeah my back hurts


	7. my taste in music is your face

As Gerard sits in front of him at Frank's favourite café, making happy noises at his coffee, Frank wonders how he could have ever hurt someone back in high school, or how other people could have hurt him so much to bring him to the point of trying to kill himself. The guy is shy and sweet by default, with a cute face and a pacifist attitude. If you didn't know him, you could even think of him as naive and harmless, and Frank knows about Gerard's violent side, but he can hardly believe in its existence. He can't even imagine Gerard beating someone up. But then Gerard talks and interrupts Frank's train of thought.

"So. We are here for a reason. What did you think of _Bullets_?" Gerard gives him a Look. It's like he's trying to see right through Frank's soul. Frank shifts a bit in his seat, takes a sip of his coffee, tries to disappear. They're sitting at the same table where Frank read the first pages of the book.

"Well, uh, I'm gonna be honest: it made me cry. A lot." Frank says, a bit awkwardly, and it feels like the bullets around his neck are actually _bricks_. The necklace is under his shirt, and he wonders what Gerard would say if he saw Frank still has the bullets. Gerard gives him one of those reassuring smiles that could brighten a rainy day, and Frank realises that it's _Gerard_ that he's talking with, and Gerard would never judge him. He's sporting a small smile himself when he says his next words: "But I loved it. I got to see the world through your eyes. And to be honest I can't wait to do it again."

Gerard thanks him, positively beaming, they finish their coffee through small talk, they pay, they leave. Gerard says he wants to show Frank a special place, so they take Gerard's car. It's not like Frank has one anyway. Gerard still has the same white, battered, secondhand Trans Am that he used to drive back when they met. He seems to love it just as much as he used to.

"Where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise. We'll be there just in time."

"In time for what?"

"You'll see, Frankie, have some patience."

They sit on the hood of the car and watch the sun bathe New York in orange. Gerard drove them out of the city, on a road that has one of those panoramic spots for tourists, he parked there and they were, indeed, just in time to watch the sunset.

"Hey, Gee" Frank talks softly. He doesn't take his eyes off the horizon.

"Mh? What?" Gerard asks, turning to look at Frank.

"I don't hold it against you, you know?" Frank hopes he didn't just ruin the moment.

"You... What?" Gerard sounds confused, and Frank realises he has to clarify. He turns to look at Gerard.

"I've never been mad at you for leaving. I mean,"- he kind of rolls his eyes at himself, and then he keeps talking, looking everywhere but Gerard's face- "I have. I was really mad, and sad, after you left. But after moping around for some months, I realised it wasn't really your fault, and in fact, you'd been rather smart, because there was really no future for neither of us in that town. So I came after you. Because I knew you were right."

He looks back at Gerard, and he's smiling. "I'm glad you understood me," he says, and then he kisses Frank. Frank feels like a man who finally drinks water after being lost in the desert for four years.

"We missed the end of the sunset," Gerard murmurs against his lips, and Frank can feel him smile. Frank laughs and deepens the kiss. Things have just started to get more heated when Frank's stomach growls. He tries to ignore it, but it growls again and he can't deny the awkwardness of it anymore.

"Sorry, coffee just doesn't seem to cut it for me," he says, and Gerard laughs.

"Alright. How about dinner? I'm hungry too" Gerard says, and next thing Frank knows, he's letting Gerard in through the back door of The Secret Goldfish.

"Here, come in. Today we closed for dinner, 'cause it's Friday and we never do dinners on Friday," Frank explains, feeling like some kind of thief even though it's his own restaurant, locking the glass door behind them. He turns on the light, and Gerard looks at the kitchen in awe.

"This kitchen is awesome," he says. Frank laughs and thanks him.

"What do you want to eat?" he asks while Gerard walks around, taking the place in.

"Something sweet," Gerard replies, touching one of the smooth, clean counters. He turns around and smiles at Frank, and Frank smiles back. They end up eating the last two slices of a chocolate and strawberry cheesecake, with cream on top.

"Why do you close on Friday evenings anyway?" Gerard asks before stuffing another spoonful of cheesecake in his mouth. He questions Frank with his eyes.

"I used to have a second job on Friday afternoons when I first opened the restaurant, so we would serve for lunch and then we'd close. After I quit the other job, we just kind of stuck with this schedule." Frank replies. Gerard gives him a half laugh.

"Yeah? What job? Where did you work?"

"Uh, a book store not too far from here"

Gerard gives him a ride back home, and when Frank invites him in, he accepts with a smile. After the door closes behind them, it's only a matter of seconds before Gerard's mouth is on him, and later, while Gerard pushes him down on the mattress and fucks him missionary style, he doesn't really see why people would say it's a boring position. He finds it pretty sweet, and he gets to look at Gerard, which is a bonus.  
When he wakes up in the morning, the bed is empty, and he smells pancakes. He panics. He shoots up from the bed and gets out of his room, completely naked, and he starts looking around the house, hoping to find Gerard still in. He does. Gerard is in the kitchen, wearing only an apron and cooking pancakes. Frank lets out a relieved huff of breath.

"You gave me a heart attack, Gerard," he says, glaring at him half-heartedly.

"Were you looking for this?" Gerard answers, dangling Frank's necklace from his fingers, not looking up from the pan. Frank's eyes widen, his hand shoots up to feel no bullets against his chest, no necklace around his neck. He doesn't know what to say.

"I didn't really think you'd keep them all this time" Gerard continues, setting the necklace down on the counter, smiling down at the pancakes fondly, like he isn't even talking to Frank. "You must have really loved me a lot back then" he adds, and this time it sounds more like he's scolding himself. Frank walks over and wraps his arms around Gerard's waist from behind, holding him close gently, and he presses a kiss to the back of his neck. He props his chin on Gerard's shoulder and watches the last pancake cook.

"I am still very fond of you, Gee."

"I'm very fond of you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit it took me a thousand years to write this chapter. i dont even know. but its so cute, so like, forgive me. writer's block is an evil beast.


	8. since you're gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FORGIVE ME FOR NOT UPDATING IN ALMOST 7 MONTHS BUT MY LIFE HAS BEEN KIND OF PROBLEMATIC AND I'M VERY SORRY BUT I JUST COULDN'T BRING MYSELF TO WRITE  
> HERE YOU GO THOUGH, THIS CHAPTER IS FINALLY DONE

Frank spent good part of his nineteenth birthday alone on his bed, the bed he once shared with Gerard, eating ice-cream with a spoon directly out of its box, crying and watching bad romance flicks and old horror movies on tv, sitting on top of the covers, surrounded by used tissues with which he'd blown his nose and dried his tears. He'd gotten a lot of weird looks at the store when the cashier beeped his 7 ice-cream boxes because it was, after all, the end of October, and it's weird to eat ice cream when it's cold out, but he couldn't have cared less. Ice-cream understood his sadness. He had to admit that 7 boxes were a bit too much though, so he only ate 3. Around 4 in the afternoon though, when he turned the tv off and the ice-cream stopped helping, he resorted to flopping down on the pillows, staring at the ceiling, and feeling his own tears run down his temples and wet his hair, thinking about his previous birthday: his doorbell rang. His first thought told him early trick-or-treaters, but it seemed weird because it was _way_ too early. Then, explanation came in the form of Pete yelling his name loudly from outside. He ignored him.   
"Come on! We know you're in there!" he heard again, and this time it was Brendon's voice. Lynz's pigtailed shadow was trying to peek through one of the bedroom windows, but the white blinds were closed and she couldn't see anything. On the other window, a shadow was wearing a fedora, and Patrick's voice said: "Please, Frankie, let us in". Frank could never resist Patrick. The guy was too cute.   
"The door is open," Frank said, and hearing his own voice after all the time he'd spent in silence kind of startled him. He heard the front door opening, closing, footsteps, and then the door to the bedroom opened, and the first thing Brendon said was "Man, you look kind of pathetic". It earned him a slap on the arm from Patrick, which was something Frank had never seen happen in his life, and Lyn-z glared at him. "Thanks Pat," Frank said, sitting up on his grave of blankets and empty ice cream boxes and used tissues. Patrick actually tipped his fedora, and Frank smiled for the first time in what felt like a thousand years. Lyn-z and Pete had finally sorted their issues out after the morning they woke up snuggling each other in the bed of Gerard's guest room, which was good. Frank wasn't sure why they got so worked up over a snuggle, and then tried to avoid each other for almost 6 months, but he never brought it up because he didn't want them to be upset again. Brendon did bring it up every now and then, but Brendon was an asshole who liked to tease people.  
"Well? What do you want?" His words sounded monotone. Again, hearing his own voice felt kind of weird, out of place, as if the house itself was missing Gerard's presence and he shouldn't upset it. "Frankie, dear," Lyn-z said, walking closer. She sat on the bed, and suddenly Frank was reminded of his mum. She did that too. "We're here to take you out," she stated, and when Frank didn't move, she continued with "You have to get over him." Frank didn't really agree with that. He didn't want to get over Gerard.  
"Frank. We're taking you to get a tattoo, come on," Brendon whined, and everyone glared at him. Patrick slapped him again, and Pete muttered: "It was meant to be a surprise, you little shit". Frank thought Lyn-z looked really scary when she glared at someone, but then he remembered something, and in a second, he was up and out of the room, making his way to the room Gerard used as a studio. The only thing left in the room was a desk with two drawers, empty of all but a crumpled piece of paper Gerard had forgotten in the left one. On the piece of paper, a smirking pumpkin stared back at him with crazy eyes. He got it done on his back, between his shoulder blades, because Gerard seemed to really like that part of Frank's body.   
Later, they went to a Halloween party hosted by someone whose name Frank forgot after drinking 3 shots, and Brendon met a guy named Ryan, who was there with two of his friends. It was love at first sight for Brendon and Ryan, and Frank proceeded to get completely shitfaced. In the morning, he woke up in his bed, naked, with some sleeping guy that still had some zombie make-up on his face cuddling him, his mouth tasted of vomit, his head was pounding and his tattoo aching. His first coherent thought that morning was that getting drunk the night before had been a really bad idea, and then he thought that he shouldn't have eaten all that ice-cream, but he knew regretting it wouldn't change things.

On the day of his twentieth birthday, Frank was being thrown out of another apartment because he hadn't paid the bills for 3 months. Everything he owned went into a shoe box, except his clothes- those went into a huge bag. He suddenly remembered moving in with Gerard, all the boxes and bags that he'd needed to put his possessions in. Now, his bag contained three pairs of jeans, a bunch of band shirts, boxers, and socks, a leather jacket, two pairs of shoes, a beanie, a scarf, a thin blanket, and a suit that he only used if his job required one. He was wearing a parka because it didn't fit in the bag, but he was glad he'd put it on because Gerard's Marvel shirt and a pair of jeans weren't going to keep him warm in the night, if he couldn't find somewhere with a roof to sleep. Inside the box, his most valued possessions: Gerard's pumpkin drawing, bullets, and goodbye note, a tin box containing all the money he was putting aside for the restaurant he wanted to open, a ring that his mother had given him for his 13th birthday, some pictures with his old friends, Lyn-z, Patrick, Pete, Brendon and Ryan, one with Gerard, his glasses, even though he almost never used them, his lucky pen, a flask and a watch that Sabrina had given him as a parting gifts, after he quit his job at the diner, and a worn out copy of his favourite book, _The Catcher in the Rye_. His phone, his cigarettes, and his lighter were inside the pockets of his parka. Once outside, he started walking, unsure of where to go. He briefly considered asking some friends to host him until he found a new home, but then he realised he didn't really have any friends. A sudden feeling of loneliness settled into his stomach like a huge rock. The next thing he did was stealing a newspaper, even though the date said it was about a week old, and then, after finding a bench to sit on at the park, he looked through the insertions and circled with his red Bic pen the ones he found interesting. He decided that splitting the bills and rent in two was much better than paying it all on his own. He found a total of 13 people who were looking for a flat-mate in the area that interested him, but he favoured five of them because they were closest to the restaurant he was currently working at. He started mapping out the most convenient route to visit them all while calculating the time it would take in his head. It was 3 in the afternoon, his watch said. He started walking towards the closest address.  
Five hours later, it was dark and it had started raining, three of the persons on the list had already found someone to share the rent with, four of them weren't home or just didn't want to open the door, two gave him candy and closed the door in his face, and that left him with only another three options. One of the houses on the list was actually his favourite one, because it was the one closest to the restaurant, and it was pretty cheap despite being in a nice neighbourhood. Bob Bryar, said the insertion. Frank decided to start walking towards Bob Bryar's house and hoped for the best. Bob Bryar wasn't really what Frank was expecting. He was blonde, well built, and he had a beard that made him look kind of like a Viking. At first, he looked at Frank with a questioning look in his eyes, and Frank realised he must've looked like a homeless wet rat with tattooed hands, and decided to introduce himself and tell the guy he was there about the insertion. When the first thing Bob Bryar did after letting him in was offering him coffee, Frank was in love. They got along nicely and Frank learned that Bob played the drums and loved cats, coffee, and Pringles. And of course his drumkit. 

Some days before his twenty-first birthday, Frank was unpacking his stuff in a new apartment. He had to move out because his new workplace was too far away from the house he shared with Bob and he still didn't have a car. His new flat-mate was Brian. Frank didn't quite catch his surname, but after a week of living together, he was too scared to come off as rude if he were to ask again. While he didn't have many interests in common with Bob other than horror movies and cooking, Brian shared his undying love for tattoos, music, and books. In fact, Brian worked in the book industry, and had confessed to him that his biggest dream in relation to his career was becoming the manager of a famous author.  
On his birthday, Bob sent him a text at exactly midnight saying "happy birthday midget", and in the morning, when Frank woke up and saw the message, he smiled at the insult because it was really in Bob's style. Brian offered him a cup of Starbucks as a birthday gift, and his new co-workers made him a cake, and surprised him when he came to the restaurant. Frank suspected it was all Jamia's doing, and then he was informed that he was going to have dinner with Jamia and Bob instead of working, and it made his heart flutter, because now he had friends again. At the end of the dinner, when they were full and kind of sleepy, Bob slid a small box towards Frank on the table, "That's our gift," he said. And when Frank opened it, he couldn't quite believe his eyes. Three bullets, on a necklace. His first, shocked question was "How?", and Bob explained that Brian was their accomplice and took the bullets from Frank's room, and Frank didn't even _notice_ that they were missing, all caught up as he was in the new house and new job. The idea was Jamia's, so that Frank could carry them with him all the time, and Bob had put the holes where the thin, black rope passed through the bullets. And Frank had to fight back tears, because of the awesomeness of the gift, but also because seeing the bullets again had reminded him of Gerard just when Frank thought he was getting over him. It felt like a slap in the face, but he hugged his friends and thanked them anyway.

On his twenty-second birthday, he woke up because Julie was licking his face. Julie was his neighbour's dog, and Frank was keeping her for him while he was on holidays with his family. Frank lived alone now. He filled Julie's bowl, he ate breakfast, and then he had a shower. After he showered and put on a pair of pants, he opened his wardrobe to look for a nice shirt. His wardrobe was one of those with a mirror on both the doors, so that when you opened it and stood in between the doors you could easily look at both your front and your back at the same time. He took a look at his still wet hair, deciding he had to dry them before he put on a shirt. His eyes strayed to the pumpkin tattoo, and he had a brief but vivid flashback of Gerard's hand placed firmly between his shoulder blades, holding him down while his hips met Frank's ass. His heart skipped a beat. He sat down on the floor and tried to calm down, breathing heavily and staring at his wide-eyed reflection. He crossed his legs Indian style, dug the heels of his hands in his eyes, and tried not to cry at the fact that he still held such strong feelings for Gerard when he should have gotten over him already, like he did with anyone else that he'd tried to date after him. He heard Julie's paws against the floor of the hallway as she made her way to Frank's room, and then she came in and started licking his face again, and Frank scratched behind her ears and told himself that Gerard had probably forgotten about him long ago. Julie rested her head on Frank's lap, and Frank petted her and thought about how disastrous his love life was. After a while, he decided to get himself together and go dry his hair. He decided to bring Julie with him at work, to his new restaurant. He'd finally made it. His friends had bought him a chocolate cake this year, and Frank loved it. He briefly wondered how Brian was doing, since they hadn't seen each other for a long time, and then he unwrapped the few gifts that everyone had got him. A new cardigan, some guitar picks with cool designs, three new books, and a laptop. He had an awesome time, and when he went back home that night, he curled up in the bed with Julie, and fell asleep with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i read through all of this again to make sure i wasn't writing a load of bullshit in this chapter and wow it's all so cheesy but i love it  
> also after re-reading the first chapter i was thinking 'well, that escalated quickly,' like, chill past me.  
> and like,,, 502 HITS I'M SCREAMING
> 
> the last chapter will be up someday in the future- in the meantime, i'll probably start uploading some other fics


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